


I wish I'd been a Teen Idle

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, catch me in the club sobbing about damra and how criminally dirty she was delt, i was listening to teen idle while writing this lol, seriously damara gets shit on so much but she deserves so much better, this is just Damara Angst fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 09:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Damara Megido remembered. She remembered, and she despised herself for it.Well, to be fair, she despised herself for a lot of things.





	I wish I'd been a Teen Idle

**Author's Note:**

> warning for semi-graphic depictions of blood!!

Damara Megido remembered. She remembered, and she despised herself for it.

 

Well, to be fair, she despised herself for a lot of things.

 

She remembered herself starting the game, all demure and shy. She remembered pressing start and being amazed as her house was ransacked by Porrim. Later, they would laugh about the story, and make Damara promise to wreck Porrim’s room at a later date.

 

She remembered Rufioh stealing her heart and whisking her away to Neverland. She remembered them making promises to each other, and telling each other how they would always love one another. God, how pathetic that was.

  
She remembered finding Rufioh and Horuss. She remembered being confused. She remembered being mad. She remembered being impossibly sad. Later that day, she would get a call from a man in a white suit.

 

She remembered hearing the constant beeping in her ears from her palmhusk, the horrible, incessant beeping of Meenah Peixes telling her she was trash, telling her to die, telling her to just give up and get mad. Damara wanted to break. How satisfying would it be to have Meenah Peixes’s neck under her hands? But she didn’t. She just blocked Meenah for the 5th time, knowing it would do nothing.

 

She remembered the day it happened. The day she opened her messages and saw the last straw.

 

**Just give up already! No ones buying ur stupid act, rufio)( was rig)(t to c)(eat on ya, wit)( )(ow boring and stupid you lowbloods can be**

 

It wasn’t the comments about Rufioh. It never was. But the word “lowblood”. To be reduced so heavily. To be treated as nothing more than a lower caste for Meenah to spit on, that’s what made her blood boil.

 

She remembered Rufioh’s body in front of her. She remembered the wand in her hand, orange blood soaking her clothes. She remembered how she felt then. She remembered how disappointed in herself she was. She remembered how she wouldn’t mind killing him again.

 

She remembered looking down at her hands. She remembered seeing the fuschia blood dripping off of her fingertips, mixing with the orange that had already begun to dry. She remembered how she sank to her knees to cry. She remembered how she cried. She cried as Aranea came and moved Meenah away. She cried as the next day passed. She cried as the blood on her hands didn’t shock her anymore. Damara cried.

 

And now, as Damara Megido remembered, she didn’t care. Her palmhusk only had one number on it, Porrim. As she kicked her legs over the top of the neon blue tree that Latula was remembering, she placed a cigarette that she knew would do nothing between her lips. Damara Megido was dead, she knew she was dead. But Damara Megido still remembered. She remembered and she hated herself for it. She remembered, but she was trying not to.


End file.
